


Again

by The_Sin_Pride



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-05-23 11:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 20,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14933345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Sin_Pride/pseuds/The_Sin_Pride
Summary: Twenty-eight. That's how old Edward Elric was when the bullet that finally killed him was fired from the barrel of a rifle. However, when he appears in front of Truth, despite having given his portal up long ago, Edward is faced with a dilemma. Pass on...or start over?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of a book I have on Wattpad under the same name. I hope you enjoy it!

White. That's all that surrounded Edward at this point. Somewhere, deep down, he knew what had happened. 

He had heard the gun, heard the shouts of alarm from bystanders, felt the twinge of pain in his back and a tearing sensation as something travelled at high speeds through his body, rupturing his heart. 

Killing him instantly.

He was dead.

But why was he here? His gate had been taken in return for his brothers body, gone forever. He shouldn't be here, it should be impossible. With the slightest turning of his head, he was able to see the usually grinning shade solemnly looking at him, head tilted to the side.

"Alchemist, I have looked forward to this moment. You have done the extraordinary, several times, and lived to tell of each experience. Sit, we have much to talk of." Truth's multilayered voice echoed. 

Edward hesitated, before slowly bending his legs and sitting down, legs crossed as he rested his hands in his lap. "I'm dead, aren't I?" He queried calmly, vaguely surprised at how calm his voice was.

Truth nodded. "Yes. You are taking it far better than most. Many cry, others are too caught up in disbelief to even understand what's going on. You however, Edward Van Elric Hohenheim, do not seem surprised." That was a statement, Edward knew, and yet he could almost sense the pondering behind it. 

Edward merely smiled slightly. "No, I am surprised. It is merely that I have nothing I left unfinished. Al has his body back, the bastard made the Führership, Ishval is rebuilding itself, Ling is emperor of Xing, and I am satisfied." 

Truth seemed to consider this. "You are not wise, alchemist, but you have more sense about you than most."

Edward raised an eyebrow, but deemed to change the subject. "So, how am I here? I gave my gate up for Alphonse, this shouldn't be possible...unless..." Edward tilted his head to the side. 

Truth grinned. "Correct. You see, Edward Elric, many people who were supposed to live died, and I simply cannot allow that, now can I? You have a choice. Pass on, to the next life, and see your mother and all those you've lost again, or restart. Save everyone. Do better." 

Ed closed his eyes, tilting his head back slightly. "Would there be a cost?" 

"Now, it wouldn't be equivalent if there wasn't, now would it?" Truth leaned forward. "The thing is...what should the toll be? You could be born without the limbs you lost during the transmutation to bring your mother back, you could be blind, mute, deaf, anything really." Truth smirked. "So what will it be?"

"Very well. If a toll is the price I need to pay, then i choose-"

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Light. That was what surrounded Edward as a cry tore from his throat. 

He couldn't help it, really, the cry was instinctual. It was silent, however, and he was all too aware of that fact as he was handed into soft, comforting arms.

His mother. 

He had traded his voice and half of his life span in order to come back, to start over. 

And here he was, an infant with the mind of a twenty eight year old man. 

Gentle fingers prodded at his neck, and murmurs were exchanged. Ed could only just make them out. 

"Trisha...he...he has no voice box."

His mothers voice, weary and worried, came through to him. "So...he'll be..?"

"Indeed. He is, and always will be, mute." 

His moms arms wrapped themselves more firmly around him, and he allowed one, admittedly, tiny fist to her chest. He could feel her heart, beating strong and proud, and he allowed a smile to cross his face.

A knock was heard on the door, soft, but Ed knew who it was.

He had heard that same, tentative sound all throughout his childhood, until he had left that is.

Hohenheim.

His father.

Almost immediately after Hohenheim entered the room, Eds face screwed up, the silent wails he let out no more than gusts of air. 

A large hand rested on his head, and a feeling of calm washed over him. Damn it, the bastard was cheating, somehow. 

He could tell it was Hohenheim by the familiar yet almost forgotten touch of a rough, slightly callused hand. 

His mothers voice floated to him through the lull that Hohenheim was inducing on him. "He has your hair, definitely. I only hope he has your eyes...I do suppose we'll find out in a few months. What should his name be?" 

There was a small pause. "Edward." Hohenheim finally said. "Edward Van Elric Hohenheim." He felt himself being passed to Hohenheim, and once he felt himself being rested against his father's chest, he raised his small fist and gave the man a half assed punch, heart not really going into it. 

He didn't hear, not necessarily, but rather felt his fathers laugh, reverberating in his chest. "Feisty already..." Edward opened his eyes, acutely aware of the fog like quality to his vision. He shot his father a quick glare before closing his eyes again. With a soft sigh, he let himself relax in his fathers arms, a blanket being swaddled around his body. 

Things would he different this time. He would make sure of it. Mother wouldn't die, he thought, and da- the bastard, wouldn't leave this time. Alphonse...Alphonse would have his body, and...perhaps, he wouldn't join the military this time. 

Xing, perhaps. He could train in both Alkahestry and alchemy, and be even better prepared for the promised day.

Fu...

Fu could live this time. 

So could Maes. 

Maes! 

And as he thought about all of those he would save- Nina and anyone else along the way, whose names escaped him at the moment- he found himself falling asleep.

As he allowed himself to calm further, breath evening out, he heard something truly rare.

His father, humming. It had happened occasionally, yes, maybe a few times a month or two before he had left, but Ed had never really listened. 

Now he did.

Hohenheim voice rose and fell in a murmur, baritone voice finally lulling Ed to sleep.

It was strange, he thought as he succumbed to sleep, to be cradled in the arms of the one you vowed to never trust again...and yet, some small, longing part of Ed yearned to trust the man who was his father.

And, for just a while, he supposed, it wouldn't hurt...

~1081 words~


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! I'll try and update this maybe once or twice a day until I get caught up with the original posting of this, and then the updates will get a bit random. Anyways, shoutout to TheOtakuReviewer and HolyCoconut and two guests for the kudos!

A year passed, and Ed was now able to move around on his own without drawing too much suspicion. 

The lack of voice was slightly annoying, but he had found several ways around it, such as pointing, going from staring at his dad or mom to the object until they got the idea, or even just a gurgling noise that came from the back of his throat.

Another pain in the ass to him was the fact that he had to be doubly careful when eating because, like he had found out a few mere weeks before, choking on food without vocal cords sucked. 

And finally, Alphonse. 

His little brother.

Was due soon.

Ed stood on sturdy legs, revelling the feeling of having all of his limbs back to flesh and blood. His brother.

It was almost like a dream, he thought as he moved silently across the living room floor. He had seen his fiancé in the past life, blue eyes wide as she managed to take small, waddling steps for the first time. He had given her a childish grin, and continued to work on building up to running.

The first few times were disasters. His legs, not yet sturdy enough for the action, had collapsed beneath him until he had managed to complete a run from one side of the room to the other, and then he revelled in his mother and fathers praise.

He had started to manage more sounds, ranging from a shrill whistling noise to an exasperated breath. He also tapped.

One light tap for mom, two of the same for dad, one light, one heavy for both, a heavy tap for cup, two for food.

Admittedly, the last was the third most used, ranking just after dad, which ranked after mom. 

It had taken an annoyingly long time for his parents to catch on, but now that they had, they smiled at him in amusement as he tapped excitedly, even though they knew only the basics of his language. 

It was different by far from Dorset or braille- He would learn those later on, when it wouldn't be too suspicious,- but for now, tapping would work.

His mother picked him up suddenly, resting him against her swollen belly. His eyes turned up towards her questioningly. One thing he had been realizing lately was that his vision was much worse than it had been merely a week or two ago, and he knew what was happening.

He had gotten his first and last pair of glasses when he was three, refusing to wear them after a few days, claiming in fractured sentences that "He didn't like them."

This time, however, he figured he may as well wear them when the time came. 

Over time, he had been able to get used to it, and never ran into any problems later on in life, although it had severely impacted his writing, therefore his seemingly skewed and illegible penmanship.

But something had him feeling that he wouldn't be able to adapt that easily this time.

He felt his moms stomach move beneath him as his brother turned, and he let a smile appear on his face. With a sharp, short whistle, his mom smiled, setting him down and keeping a watchful eye on him as he walked down the hall.

She gave his dad a quick warning that he was headed in his direction, and was answered with a slightly distracted, "Alright, dear."

He pushed open his fathers slightly ajar study door just enough for him to slip in, greeted by a smile on his dads slightly tanned face. "Its almost like you're older than you are, with how much you sneak around and understand." He said, scooping Ed up and placing him on one knee as he picked up a pen simultaneously.

Ed  gave a wry smile, which, he had found, looked very odd on his young face. "And there you go again." His father let out a slightly exasperated laugh before sobering up almost instantly. "I wonder..."

His thought wasn't completed, however, as a pain filled yell reached their ears.

Instantly, Ed had clambered down from his dads lap, and was hobbling down the hallway once again, as fast as his little legs were capable of. Hohenheim was faster, reaching mom faster than Ed could, as young as his body was.

"Trisha, dear, is everything alright?" His worried voice drifted to Eds ears.

"It's coming!" She ground out, eyes clenched tight in pain.

"But they're not due for another few days!"

"Well the baby said now, and I'm pretty sure they get to choose!" And Ed was drowned in nostalgia.

These were the same words that had transpired between Maes Hughes and his wife, Gracia, when their daughter Elysia had been born.

The door slammed, and he realized that Hohenheim had left, presumably to get the Rockbells, and that he was now alone with his mom. His mom, who was in so much pain her face contorted and she grasped at her stomach, trying desperately to ease the pain.

Another pain filled shriek tore from her mouth, and Ed hardly realized he was moving towards her until he was already there. 

Voices were heard suddenly, and he was aware of being picked up by his arms, torn away from his mom and held in the firm arms of another woman.

Sarah Rockbell. 

Winry's mom.

It had been a shock when he had first seen her parents, alive and well, with no idea that they would die in the next few years.

Edward was turned around so he was facing away from his mother, and the next few hours passed in a blur.

Voices, pained whimpers and his fractured vision was what he experienced.

Finally, the sharp cry of a new born ripped through the air, and Ed was allowed to turn and look back. 

Alphonse Elric, eyes closed and mouth open in a wail of complaint, the gore of birth being gently wiped off of his body.

When he was clean and had been swaddled in a soft blanket, he was passed to his mom, a tuft of the signature golden colored hair that marked an Elric stuck up slightly, and both Ed and his mom shared a smile. 

Alphonse Elric had his body, and this time...Edward was determined to keep it that way.

~1063 words~  
More of a filler chapter than anything. I hope you guys enjoy!


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! Enjoy!

Edward hurt. 

The same spot where the bullet had tore through his chest in his previous life burned, and he curled inwards, tears pooling in his eyes. How had he not felt it this way before?

A soft hiss of breath betrayed his pain, his hands clawing desperately at his chest. Any pain was better than this.

Tears started to stream and Ed honestly couldn't bring himself to the usual disgust that normally came with the salty liquid. 

His small body spasmed violently as the pain worsened, and his leg connected violently with the wall.

Edward could vaguely hear his fathers familiar footsteps, rushing towards his room, and Alphonse's confused and tired mangle of the word "Brother" before he lost consciousness.

Even in his unconscious state, the pain didn't leave, and he found himself wanting to scream at the unfairness of it all. He just wanted to fix everything, so why did this pain of the past still haunt him so?

The total darkness did nothing to aid the pain, if anything, it seemed to only be a way for the pain to grow stronger.

He tried to scream, to make any sound at all, but his voice was gone, taken by the void. It was torture, pure and simple.

He lost track of how much time went by, knowing only the pain that wracked through his body, forcing the tears out of his tightly closed eyes.

He was aware, however, of his senses slowly returning. He could hear worried voices around him, feel the pressure of something cold on his forehead and chest, smell the strong teas his mother made for when a child was sick, and taste the acidic taste of bile in his mouth.

The pain lingered, but it was fading, coming in long, drawn out pulses now. It was better than the insistent, never ceasing burn that ripped through his very being, however, so he accepted it.

Sight was longer in returning, but when he finally opened his eyes, they were assaulted with burning light. "He's awake!" 

The voice he vaguely placed as Pinako's was unclear, fading in and out of focus as he tried to push himself upright. A cool hand prevented him, pushing gently on his shoulders to make him lay back down. He groaned in pain, the movement causing a slight shock of pain to burn through his nerves. This, he thought, was about the same on the pain scale as automail surgery.

"Do you know whats wrong?" He heard his mothers voice ask, in sharper clarity than his friends grandmothers. 

"It's almost as though an old wound were effecting a person, like how automail aches at times and during the rainy and cold months. Except...he shouldn't have any old wounds. He's four, hardly old enough to be able to hold a bucket of water for too long, let alone get the type of injury that would inflict this type of pain." Pinako's voice was quiet, and then a slender but calloused finger prodded at his chest. "I'm going to try and locate the exact source of the pain, if I can do that, we can get him to the doctors if it happens again and have them look at it." She prodded further, moving closer to his heart. 

She had barely pressed down on the pale, sweaty flesh of the place above his heart when the agony burst forth again, and a whimper -it was all he could manage- escaped his mouth, his eyes screwing shut tightly.

Immediately, the hand removed itself from him, and Pinako's voice rang out, this time confused. "The heart...that shouldn't be possible. He's too young for heart attacks or anything of the likes, and to young for any type of injury unless..."

The people of Resembool could be highly superstitious, especially when they had nothing else to prove them otherwise. 

Edward didn't catch the rest of the conversation, didn't want to, either, and so he let himself relax, slipping into this time a less fretful and painful sleep. 

When he woke next, he was disoriented. It was dark, and he had no way of telling f it was closer to morning or night. His breathing was slow, barely there as he drew shallow breaths. 

The burning pain had dulled into a slight ache with every breath, and he found it much easier to move his small body. 

Cautiously, he sat up, wincing only slightly at the pain. Shifting, he slid his legs over the side of the twin sized bed he called his own, pushing himself forward til his legs dangled an inch and a half above the floor.

He pushed himself off the edge of the bed, standing and swaying uncertainly as he struggled to regain his balance.

Downstairs, he thought suddenly.

Voices, and ones he didn't know, too.

All signs of weariness were gone now, as he shuffled slowly to the other side of the room where he knew his dad kept a knife.

Grabbing it from its shelf, he crept to the door, opening it with a slight creaking noise. 

He froze, waiting. The seconds stretched out as he stood, a statue just waiting to be found.

When almost thirty seconds passed, he slipped into the hallway, knife held low in the classic knife fighter stance.

Strange, he thought, how he missed his automail so dearly right now. The short sword he usually transmuted from it would have been useful, no doubt.

He froze.

Alchemy...he hadn't given it a single thought since the moment he had returned at the moment of his birth.

Now, however, a thought plagued him. Would he be able to use his alchemy? Would it be possible?

He had given up his gate, yes, in the past life anyways but...this wasn't then.

He crept forward, the thoughts whirling around in his head.

He slipped down the stairs, avoiding the creaky steps and smiling wryly to himself. 

In his past life, he was never one for stealth.

Oh how the times changed.

Literally.

~1006 words~


	4. Chapter Four

=Two Weeks Prior To Chapter Three=

The sun beat down brightly on the three children as they chased each other across the green hills and dirt trails of Resembool. Each of the trio had grins on their faces, smiling widely as they ran.

Winry, in her outfit of a t-shirt and overalls on top, was able to keep up with the boys, much to their delight.

She had been determined to win in one of their races, and the only way to do that was to first be able to keep up with them.

She found it was easier if she focused completely in her task, lengthening g her stride and pushing off with equal force for each step. This matched her gait tho those of the two more athletic, albeit shorter, males.

Each boy held a woven basket full of the several fruited and vegetables their mother had requested, while Winry clutched a new dress in her arms. The money for it had been a gift, marking her turning from four to five. 

In the end, of course, the two boys had drawn slightly ahead and won, tying with each other, as Winry slowed to a stop a foot away from them, smiling breathlessly.

She doubted it would be long before she won. She was still growing, legs growing longer and therefore her stride would be linger, allowing her to pull ahead.

They were having dinner here, at the Elric household, because Granny was working late on an automail job. While Winry was disappointed that she couldn't help with building the intricate machinery, she was excited. Dinners or lunches at Ed and Al's house were always joyful occasions, sometimes a picnic, or sometimes just a simple dinner, followed by pie of some kind or another. 

Either way, Miss Elrics food was delicious, and it was once again proved by the amazing quiche she had made. She'd smiled gently at Winry when she had pointed out just how amazing it was. 

Miss Elric had ruffled her hair gently, happiness gleaming in her eyes. "When you next come over you can help, how's that sound?" Winry smiled eagerly, nodding, before running off to accept a challenge issued by Ed. He had tagged her as he passed, and now he was sprinting away, that same gigantic grin on his face as earlier. 

Winry got her chance when Ed stumbled, causing Alphonse -who was directly behind him- to careen wildly out of the way.

Winry sped up, passing the two boys and racing towards the usual finishing point.

She made it.

Alphonse, who had managed to regain his speed, came second, and Ed, who had sprawled face first into the soft grass and dirt, came third.

Winry had won due to a small mistake made by a small male. How ironic, really. 

She was smiling happily, having won for the first time. Ed was grinning as well, mouthing a 'Good job' in her direction. 

At first she had been confused by Ed not ever speaking. As she grew older, however, she had learned he was mute by birth, and she had accepted it fully. She had gotten rather good at lip reading thanks to him, and constantly practiced whenever she went out into town. She felt a sort of pride when she was correctly able to interpret others conversations just by looking, and Ed gave her a grin and a thumbs up with each successful attempt. Alphonse merely sighed, holding his small hand to his face, that still bore the baby fat that Winry and Ed were already starting to lose. It was an overly adorable action, and Ed and Winry smiled brightly.

Although Ed regularly wished he had his voice, even if to only tell his brother and friend just how much he adored and loved the two of them, he was also content with his muteness, and merely used those wishes as fuel to learn more than ever about sign language, all of the finer points, and practicing til his hands hurt and he could no longer sign for the cramps that plagued his joints.

Ed smiled, walking over and ruffling his brothers hair, smile turning into a grin at his brothers complaint, as he tried desperately to fix his now sticking up hair. 

Really, his brother was precious. Last time, he had taken for granted every smile, laugh, and glimmer of happiness that his brother shared to the world. Every act of kindness was so pure, so heartfelt he could only smile now. He would do anything to keep things this way. Peaceful, mom alive and dad still here. 

But it wouldn't. Although he still felt the old hate towards Hohenheim at times, he also knew that his dad had to leave in order for everything to turn out alright. That didn't mean he couldn't try to keep the man here, however. Damn it all if he didn't at least try. Al deserved a dad. A childhood. 

He became aware of a hand waving in front of his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, grinning sheepishly at his brother. He must have blanked out. Al huffed, but grinned, the smile splitting his face and making him all that much more adorable.

"Come on, we'll miss the train!" He exclaimed. 

Winry huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. "How are you two so energetic, running about so much? I only barely beat you two in a full speed race just now!" She complained, but took after Ed and Al, who were running side by side, occasionally bumping into each other, trying to push each other out of the way. 

The trains whistle blew in the distance, the black train appearing over one of the many hills. A black line, speeding across the land. 

They drew up next to it, huffing as they tried to keep pace, before laughing in defeat as they tripped in turn, sprawling or rolling forward onto the soft grass that Resembool just seemed to be full of at anytime besides winter. Even then, this countryside town was beautiful. Quiet, coated in ice and snow, it was the perfect winter wonderland as Al called it.

\--1026 Words--  
A happy chapter.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTION OF THE RAPE OF A YOUNG CHILD. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE AT ALL SENSITIVE ABOUT THIS SUBJECT OR TRIGGERED EASILY. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Ed froze in his tracks.

For a moment the man who stood across from his father reminded him of Mustang. 

Tall build, dark, narrow eyes and the same midnight black hair.

The only difference was the more feminine curve to the mans face and lighter tone of voice. 

The man turned, as if sensing Edward in the shadows. "So this is him?' The man said, not commenting on the knife in Ed's hands. Hohenheim nodded, not mentioning it either.

"Yes. Edward, go put your knife away then come back. Alec here is going to try and see what's wrong with your chest." Hohemheim's voice was weary, and Ed looked between his father and the man, Alec, before slowly nodding and moving back up the steps.

The knife was replaced on his dresser, and Ed moved back downstairs after putting his hair in a in a low ponytail in a practiced move.

It had been annoying him.

Hohemheim nodded. "Should I leave?" He said, looking at Alec.

"Please," Alec said smoothly. "This could be painful to watch if I accidentally set off another fit." 

Ed already didn't like this man.

Hohemheim nodded in understanding. "I'll be on the porch if you need me." And with that, he exited the room, the front door opening and closing could be heard a moment later..

Alec turned to Edward, crouching down to his height. "Alright. I understand that you had a bad pain earlier, right?"

Ed nodded, gold eyes staring defiantly into Alec's black ones.

"Can you take your shirt off for me? I need to be able to see the spot." 

Ed really didn't like this.

"Edward, or Ed, if you're fine with that, please. I'm going to see what I can do for you." 

The light shirt he was wearing came off slowly, and was draped carefully over the back of a chair. 

He wanted to hide.

This wasn't right.

Alec's voice cooed from in front of him. "There we go. Do you think you could lay down on the counter?" 

He felt a sense of foreboding. Why had his father brought this man here?

Apparently he hadn't moved quick enough for Alec, as he was picked up, none to gently, and placed on his back on the counter, legs dangling off.

"See? That wasn't so hard. Now, your father told me the pain was coming from your heart, is that right?" 

Ed nodded. 

Alec pressed none too gently down on his chest, and Ed screamed silently, tears pooling in his eyes.

Lips were on his suddenly, rough, chapped, and with an awkwardness that the man easily corrected. Weakly, Ed tried to kick out, to force the man away from him, but he couldn't. The pain was too much and he was, in his four year old body, no match physically for a man at the age of twenty or so.

The tears fell, and Ed's mouth opened as if in a sob, only for Alec to take the opportunity to further violate him. His stomach dropped as Alec's hand teased at one of his nipples, the other pinning his arms above his head.

Ed wished more than anything he had his voice back.

Something fractured in him when he heard the clinking of a belt being undone, soon followed by that of a zipper.

Something shattered when he was violated to his core, unable to do anything. 

\--

No smiles.

No silent laughter.

No tapping.

Ed sat alone, usually curled up in a ball on his bed or in the corner of his and Al's room.

He was sore.

Broken.

Hurting.

Crushed.

And he could tell no one.

He could write it down, of course, but to do so would require remembering.

He didn't want to remember.

He never did.

And he had no one to blame for his weakness besides his self. He hadn't been strong enough. What had happened to him? When had he gotten so stupidly pathetic? Why..?

Tears pooled in his eyes, and he willed them not to fall. They did not listen.

His parents had been informed that there was nothing that the bastard could do, and that it was shock that was causing Ed's continued self enforced isolation, and his continuous shifting and terror when a loud noise sounded, or, hell, even when a man touched him.

He flinched violently, relaxing when he saw who it was, but he could tell that his mom and dad were worried.

Al, thankfully, remained blissfully unaware of his brothers problems.

A soft knock was heard on the door. Mom. He rapped on the wall behind him thrice to let her know she could come in.

She took one look at hi tearstained face and immediately crossed the room, picking him up to cradle him in her arms as if he was a baby again.

"Shh, hun, don't worry. It'll be fine, it'll all be fine. Relax." She murmured, rocking back and forth as Ed cried into the soft material of her dress. "It will all be fine...it'll get better. I promise." 

And slowly, ever so slowly, he calmed.

His eyes grew heavy from exhaustion, and sleep took over, wrapping him in a dark blanket.

He vaguely registered the sound of the door closing as he fell into a deep sleep, curled up on his side.

\--

It was still dark when Ed woke, panting from a nightmare. 

Pathetic. Thirty-two years old and he was having nightmares. 

And then he realized his lower half was soaked, and that the smell of urine surrounded him.

His face flushed in shame, tears pricking at his eyes as he stood in his soiled pajamas and tried creeping towards the door, ignoring any discomfort he felt from his rear as he moved towards his parents room.

Knocking, he had to wait a moment before Hohemheim opened the door blearily, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

He took one look at Ed, before scooping him up, ignoring the wet fabric against his bare chest as he moved Ed to the bathroom. "Bad dream?" He murmured, voice scratchy from having been woken.

Ed went to nod, then hesitated. Someone needed to know.

Someone who had secrets of their own.

He traced out letters, one by one, on his fathers chest. 

M

E

M

O

R

I

E

S

Hohemheim looked saddened.

"How old are you, really? I've had my suspicions...you've always known more than you should." He sighed. "The chest pains only furthered my thoughts."

Faltering once again, he let out a quiet sigh and traced the numbers out.

3

2

"Thirty-two?" Hohemheim said, eyes widening slightly.

Ed nodded as Hohemheim absently reached to turn the water on, putting the plug in the tub so that it would fill rapidly.

A-n-d  y-o-u-r-e  a-r-o-u-n-d  f-o-u-r  h-u-n-d-r-e-d. He drew, letters coming faster as he grew more confident, even as his father helped him peel off his spoiled clothes and help him into the bath.

"You know, huh?" Hohemheim murmured. "Then you'll know I have to leave soon as well."

Ed gripped at his fathers arm suddenly, the letters digging into his skin.

D-O-N-T.  M-O-M  D-I-E-S  A-N-D  A-L  A-N-D  I  T-R-Y  T-O  B-R-I-N-G  H-E-R  B-A-C-K. 

"You did that last time?" Hohemheim said, shock flitting through his eyes. 

Y-E-S.

"What was the toll..?" He said weakly.

M-y  l-e-g  i-n  t-h-e  i-n-i-t-i-a-l  t-r-a-n-s-m-u-t-a-i-o-n, A-l  l-o-s-t  h-i-s  b-o-d-y.  I l-o-s-t  m-y  r-i-g-h-t  a-r-m  a-t-t-a-c-h-i-n-g  h-i-s  s-o-u-l  t-o  o-n-e  o-f  t-h-e  s-u-i-t-s  o-f  a-r-m-o-r  i-n  t-h-e  b-a-s-e-m-e-n-t.  I  g-o-t  a-u-t-o-m-a-i-l  f-r-o-m  W-i-n-r-y  a-n-d  P-i-n-a-k-o  a-n-d  j-o-i-n-e-d  t-h-e  m-i-l-i-t-a-r-y  a-s  a s-t-a-t-e  a-l-c-h-e-m-i-s-t.  T-h-e  p-r-o-m-i-s-e-d  d-a-y  c-a-m-e a-n-d  I g-o-t  A-l-s  b-o-d-y  b-a-c-k,  a-n-d y-o-u  d-i-e-d  s-o-o-n  a-f-t-e-r-w-a-r-d-s  f-o-r  t-a-k-i-n-g  a  h-i-t  f-o-r  m-e.

"And your shakiness lately..?" 

...

He paused, trembling.

R

A

P

E

.

.

.

"Alec?" Hohemheim whispered in horror.

Ed nodded, sinking deeper into the water.

"I...I'm sorry, Edward...he said he could help and we were desperate...I'm so sorry..." 

Ed had no response, only to flinch when his father pulled him close in a hug, and, even as awkward as the move was, he could practically feel the sincerity behind it, even as his father whispered sorry for having had made him flinch.

\--1611 Words--


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a year timeskip between this chapter and the last.

Trisha worried.

Ed was sick, and there seemed to be nothing that anyone could do the help him. He was pale, his breath laboured, and his temperatures higher than ever. He had been quarantined to his room, and Alphonse was sleeping over at Winry's until Ed got better.

Or worse.

Shaking her head, she returned to the task of cooling his brow, placing cloths soaked in cold water and wringed out until merely damp. Cold. Exactly what she needed.

Hohemheim was down stairs, talking to the town doctor. They had inspected Ed earlier, and, because of his youth, said that there was a likely chance he would make a full recovery. But he had also said that if he got worse...he could die.

An Trisha didn't think she would be able to handle her oldest child leaving at such a young age. If he or Alphonse ever died...she would be ruined. 

Ed shifted in his sleep, and her heart leaped. Perhaps he was waking? No. It was merely the subconscious shifting of a fretful sleep.

Grief welled in her chest as she removed the cloth, waving it gently to cool it again before replacing it on Ed's forehead. 

A gentle hand lay itself on her shoulder. "He'll get better, I promise. He has a lot more fire in his soul than anyone I ever knew." Hohemheim said softly.

Trisha turned to look at him. She knew of his seeming immortality, and to hear those words, with such sincerity too, filled her with a slight sense of gratitude. "I know...I just worry." 

"And that's what makes you the best person to be their mother." Hohemheim smiled slightly, bending down to kiss the top of her head.

Trisha smiled exasperatedly, shooing him out of the room as she worked to keep Ed's fever down.

\--

His thoughts were foggy. 

He couldn't...

He couldn't what? 

He didn't know.

He felt warm, cold at the same time, and a shudder passed through his body. 

Ed felt like he was drowning. 

Ed..? He thought vaguely. Who...was Ed..?

He supposed it didn't matter.

He hurt too much...

Why was everything echoing?

His skull felt like it was splitting open.

Skull?

The word registered slowly. Aah, that's right. He was alive.

Ed..

His thoughts came in sharper clarity now, even though they were still fogged. That was his name...

He felt strangely proud of himself for remembering himself. He giggled to himself. Proud...pride...prideful...such a simply odd word.

Well, he thought through his daze, so was every word if you repeated it long enough.

Like pain, he thought suddenly. 

People made such a big deal out of it. 

In all reality, however, what was it? Why, nothing but the nerves firing off signals to the brain to tell it that something was going on. 

Easily ignored. 

He seemed to sink deeper in the blackness, the fog taking over again.

And death. 

Perhaps he was dying, Ed mused. 

What a relief it would be.

And yet he could not help but worry.

He did not want to die, he realized suddenly. He wanted to live.

Now all he had to do was fight past...what the hell was this..?

His blood chilled.

The blackness turned to stark white.

He realized then what had been holding him down. Hands. Thousands of them. Clutching at every inch of him and dragging him here. To the gate. Gaze level, he drew himself up to his full childish height and looked God straight in the face.

"Why am I here?" He demanded, voice steely. The Truth laughed. It was a cold, calculating sound that sent shivers up his spine.

"Surely you can figure that out, Alchemist?" It seemed to be considering him. Only then did he realize he was speaking. For the first time in years, he was fucking speaking.

His face must have given his turmoil away, as the Truth laughed that cold laugh again. "Temporary, Alchemist. It is much easier to discuss what we are going to when both sides have a voice." The grin appeared, stretching impossibly wide. In a way, the Truth was both sides. It was everything and anything. Everyone and anyone.

His eyes narrowed. "I see. What am I here to talk about, then?" His voice was weird. It was the voice of someone who's seen hell just one too many times and then was forced to see it again. And again.

And it was the voice of a five year old.

"You're dying, Alchemist." There was no mockery in its tone,.merely simple fact.

"I'm..."

"Dying, yes. The pneumonia you contracted is taking its toll in your body swiftly. However..." It seemed to consider him. "You are not destined to die. So, Alchemist, I ask you..."

They trailed off. 

And continued. "Will you die now, and leave the whole of Amestris to die by the plans of the Dwarf in the Flask...or will you pass the sickness to someone else, so that they die but others live?"

Ed's blood ran like sludge through his veins; he was numb, really, and he dumbly processed the question.

"Choose, Alchemist, or I will choose your path for you. Because if you happen to die...you will accompany your brother on his journey, watching without anyone being able to see you, and once they die, you will be left alone, wandering the desecrated remains of the country." 

Edward's eyes widened, and his mouth opened as if in protest before he shut it. "I...can I at least know who gets sick..?"

"No." The Truth said curtly. 

"Fine...I...I choose to live."

And with that, a grin split over the Truth's face, and he was pulled into the gate. Information poured into his mind, and he embraced it, not fighting it like he had in the past.

He woke what felt to be mere moments later, blinking his eyes open and looking around in confusion as exhaustion coursed through his body. Trisha took his small hand in hers, and smiled. The doctor had been right. Her son was a survivor. 

Even though he had been dead for nearly half an hour prior to him miraculously waking.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit happens, and I loved writing it. Enjoy!

Hohemheim was leaving. Again. This time, however, it was not as abrupt. He promised to call. Promised to visit. Promised to keep being a father.

Now only time would tell if he would keep those promises. 

Right now, however, he was being held close to the man he had come to forgive, words being whispered into his ear.

He was telling him the exact places he would visit, and the general time span of when he would, in case Ed ever needed to travel there or anything.

Ed squeezed his arms tighter around his dads neck slightly in understanding, feeling only a fraction of the hate he should. But at the moment..? He couldn't care less. 

He was pulled away by his mom and balanced on her hip with Al. Hohenheim straightened, stepping forward to kiss Trisha's forehead. "I'll be back, I promise." He murmured, doing the same to Al before turning, picking up his suitcase, and leaving. 

\--

Roy coughed violently into his hand, ignoring his best friends worried look as he focused on easing the dry burn in his throat. 

"Roy, you really should get that checked out. It doesn't sound good." Mae's advised from where he was, sitting on the edge of Roy's desk.

He glared, pulling his hand away and letting out a shaky breath. "I'll get it checked out in a week if it doesn't go away by then."

"You said that last week, Roy. You will go, or-" Roy cut him off with another coughing fit that, when it finally subsided, had him clutching at his chest through the blue of the uniform. His chest felt as though it was on fire. More coughs tried to force themselves past his lips before he had even gulped the stale air of his office into his lungs, leaving him a wheezing, weakly coughing and pathetic mess.

"Roy!" He was vaguely aware of his friend jumping off of the table and moving to his side, of the door to his office opening with a small crash.

"What's happening?" He heard Riza's professional tone, could practically feel the worry in her gaze as black spots danced in front of his vision. Blood flecked his glove as he pulled his hand away, wheezing. 

Suddenly cold, he shivered, and couldn't seem to stop. A freezing cold hand rested itself on his forehead before it was pulled away nearly immediately. And that was the last thing he felt before the world lurched around him, faded, and slammed him into darkness.

\-- 

Sitting on a throne made of stone underneath Central Headquarters, the homunculus Father looked up slightly, pulling himself away from his planning. 

Three more sacrifices, a few more years, and a single transmutation would turn him into a god. Unlike the Truth, he would have power. He would do as he wished, instead of sitting passively, letting their power go to waste. But for now...

"Lust." He said simply, and the feminine figure appeared from the shadows.

"Yes, Father?" She said, her sultry voice more of a purr than anything.

"Get Sloth to begin construction on the circle."

"Yes, Father." And she was gone, the clicking of her heels on cement soon fading away and leaving him alone with the familiar sounds of the souls in his stone screaming in their anguish and suffering.

\--

Across an unforgiving land of burning sand and vipers with venomous bites, and scorpions who could kill with ease, a young Xingan prince was only just raising their head from a koutou. 

"Dismissed." His father, the Emperor, said. Elderly now, the Emperor was an inspiration for having lived so long. 

Ling stood, bowed deeply at the waist, and left the throne room. As he did, his guards, Lan Fan and Fu, fell in step a few paces behind him. 

A girl in pink silk and hair done lovingly in two braids entered the throne room.

Half an hour later, Ling was riding quickly on a back and gray flecked stallion across the desert, his two guards trailing behind him, wraith like in appearance, on horses of pure black.

An hour later, the girl, Mei Chang, set out as well. With her partner Xiao Mei on her shoulder, she crossed the border between Xing and the Great Desert with one final look at her homeland.

After all, there was always a chance that she wouldn't end up returning.

\--

Edward sat at the creek, staring out over the water with a ageless look of acceptance on his face. The water gurgled happily, and the flashes of silver as small fish darted about in its lazy waters were truly hypnotic. 

Al sat next to him, suddenly, and Ed turned to acknowledge the sudden presence. It had been four years since Hohenheim had left. It had been tree weeks since they had last visited home. Two since they had called.

And one day since Trisha had died in bed.

Al was upset. He had every reason to be, and Ed knew that. 

And he also knew what would have to happen.

They had to bring Trisha back. They would fail. But Al would still have his body. As long as he didn't fuck up. Ed, however...the Truth had told him exactly what he would have to sacrifice in order for his brother to be whole.

Both arms. Left leg. Right kidney. Severe weakening of his heart. Lessening of eyesight or even possible blindness. 

And he had accepted the terms. 

Because for Alphonse, he would do anything. 

\--

Maes sat on the uncomfortable plastic chair, brow furrowed in worry as he watched his friend breathe shallowly.

Roy Mustang was hooked up to what seemed to be far too many machines, with an IV inserted into his arm.

Pneumonia, the doctor had said. And it was bad. 

He had to fight back tears. 

Fifteen percent chance of survival... And if he ever got it again...

Zero. His friend would die.

Roy's face was pale and clammy underneath the fluorescent lighting of the hospital, and sweat caused his usually neatly groomed but purposely unruly hair to stick to their face.

He was pitiful like this.

If they couldn't successfully get the liquid out of his lungs, well...

But that didn't change the fact that he was still holding on, literally. Maes' hand was held in a death grip by Roy's hand. 

Before it slackened suddenly. 

The heart monitor flat lined. 

Maes hung his head and cried as doctors rushed into the room, trying to resuscitate the man.

\--1082 Words--


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say. On with the show.

Thirty-seven. 

That's how old Ed was, if one went from the mental point of view. Nine if they went from the physical.

Nine years old and already far stronger than he should be. Nine years old and already far more knowledgeable in the forbidden than anyone. Nine years old and with a look of cold fire in his eyes.

Nine years old and already grown.

Nine years old and raped.

Currently, he was talking to his brother. Talking, of course, in the loosest sense possible. Dorset code was easy to learn, and his brother was eager to be able to actually communicate in a two way fashion, so he picked it up quickly. 

Tap, thump, tap, tap, came his brothers hesitant code. He would get better, but for now? He had already figured out 'Ed', and without any help, too. 

Thunder roared outside, the lightning it accompanied streaking purple through the sky.

'We should help out by the river, Al.' Ed tapped, just slow enough for Al to be able to understand. After a few moments, Al nodded. And so they went, mainly ignoring Pinako as they ran down to the river. 

Men and women alike stood along the overflowing banks of the usually peaceful river, placing down sandbags and whatever else they could to try and stop the water from rising too far. 

Ed and Al pushed past some of the villagers, crouching down on the muddy riverbank. Although Ed didn't have to, he quickly sketched a transmutation circle, Al doing the same. Dirt walls, taller than three men and two feet thick were raised in  an instant, with Al's transmutation fortifying the walls further. 

Gasps of muted shock could be heard, and soon enough two familiar faces made their way to the wall. Sig and Izumi.

Izumi was complimenting the barrier with her eyes, the black orbs appraising the earthen wall. "Hmm...well done, fortified...this should last the entirety of the storm." She mused, before promptly throwing up blood. Even Ed, as used to it as he had come to be before dying--and damn if that wasn't weird to say--, stood hurriedly, taking a few quick steps over to his teacher in another life's side. 

Izumi fell back into her hulking husband's caring arms, shooting a uncharacteristically gentle look up at him before shooting a glare at Ed and Al, relaxing when she saw they were children. 

Al was the first to speak. "Uh...uhm, hello, ma'am..." He said shyly.

"Drop the ma'am, kid. It makes me sound old." Izumi scoffed. "And do you know who made this wall? They did a good job, although their transmutation could  have been a bit less sloppy." 

Al blushed while Ed huffed silently. He had been rather proud of that transmutation.

"A-actually..."

"Well, who was it?" She snapped impatiently. 

"It was Brother and I..." Ed nodded, his fiery, gold coloured eyes staring up into Izumi's.

"I doubt it." 

"It's true, miss. These  are the Elric brothers, some of, if not the best, alchemists in Resembool." A man, David Collins, spoke up from the sidelines. 

A few other people agreed, and Izumi was forced to look at the boys with a new perspective. "I see," she mused, before her leg lashed out. Both Ed and Al dodged with ease, due to Ed's persistent training and insistance that Al follow his lead.

Her eyes narrowed, and she turned her attention to Ed. "You, boy, why don't you talk?" She demanded. Really, she had no room to say that, as her husband rarely spoke a word.

"Ah...Brother is...well, he's mute." Al's voice grew quieter as he spoke, and Ed looked at his brother with a tender smile. Al had never liked admitting that his brother was mute, if only for the reason that people tended to coddle Ed after they found out.

Really, Ed always thought, call a disability a disability, and dont lie about it. No reason to, really.

Izumi's eyes softened. "Ah, I see. Where are your parents?"

Ed took another step forward, before kneeling to write quickly in the dirt. He had to write fast  so that it didn't wash away before Izumi could read it. 

'Dad left + mom died. Just me + Al, + a friend + her grandmother.'

Sometimes, abbreviations were important.

Izumi scanned it, eyes showing no hint of emotion. "Ah..." She nodded slightly. "Anyways, scram, unless there's something you want?"

Ed and Al's eyes met, and they nodded simultaneously. "Be our teacher, miss!" Al blurted out, and Ed nodded firmly, as if that alone would convince Izumi to take them as her apprentices. 

"No," she said flatly.

Al hung his head, looking dejected, while Ed let his emotional guard down for a split second. 

He knew Izumi hated seeing children in pain, so the pure torment and agony that haunted Ed's gaze would be enough to make the woman agree.

Hopefully.

The barrier was back in place almost instantly, but he knew they had won.

"Fine," the woman said grudgingly. "We'll stay for a week, but we're catching the earliest train out on Wednesday, got that?" 

The two brothers nodded enthusiastically, and the faintest hint of an smile touched at Izumi's lips.

\--

They made it back to the Rockbell house, soaked to the bone and weary, but with matching grins. 

Pinako sat at the kitchen table, pipe inbetween her lips as she examined the two, who were currently dripping water over the floor and tracking mud through the door.

"Strip. I'll run a bath for you two." The woman said firmly, before heading to the bathroom to do just that. 

Soon the two were led to the bathroom, and were promptly ordered into the warm, sudsy water that had been prepared for the both of them. 

Now if only neither of them ended up catching a cold, it would be a miracle.

Ed looked over at his brother, who was leaning against the side of the tub, nearly submerged in the water and looking just about as content as Binx, Al's cat from the previous life, had always been. With a sly grin, Ed scooped some of the bubbles into his hands and flung them at Alphonse, grin turning positively wicked as his brother complained loudly at the treatment. Soon it was his turn to whine, as Al had deemed it worthy to return the favor.

And soon enough, it had become a bubble war.

 

\--1066 Words--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied in the beginning note. I'm going to be gone for a week or so and only just remembered. I'll post another chapter or two tonight.


	9. Chapter Nine

Perhaps the one thing Edward valued most when he traveled to Dublith with Izumi, Sig and his brother was the random quizzes that Izumi threw at them. Being able to answer each question accurately and with speed and then being able to witness the both grudging appreciation and slight pride in his teachers eyes filled him with a joy he hadn't known in a long while.

The other was how Izumi didn't mind his muteness, helping him work around it instead of treating it like a disability and coddling him. When they sparred, she seemed surprised that Edward knew so much already, and would usually go full out. When either he or Alphonse got hurt, they saw the maternal side to Izumi, the smiles, the hugs, the gentle bandaging of the scrape.

She also saw right through Ed's defenses, cornering him one night to ask him about why he flinched at times, why she could hear muffled crying from him when he was in the shower and why his eyes didn't hold the normal, happy look of a child.

So, with much reluctance and a cold look to him so that he didn't break down and cry in front of her, he told her, wrote, rather, his story, skipping a few details. after all, she didn't need to know how he had frozen up, how he had been too weak. How he had just lay in misery for ages until Alec had finished with him.

Midway through this, he had an attack curling inwards in himself to try and alleviate the searing pain, and then he watched as tears first pooled in Izumi's eyes, and then streamed slowly down her face. He was reminded then that she had lost her own child, and that she had always had a soft spot for children. Hearing this must be killing her, he thought, letting out a breath of surprised air when she gathered him in her arms like the child he resembled but wasn't. 

"I'm sorry you had to go through that..." She murmured, holding him gently, as if afraid that his small body would shatter irreparably if she held him too tightly.

'But I lived.' He traced on her skin. 'I might not be as whole as I want to be, but I'm still alive.'

"That you are, Edward, that you are."

\---

A year came and went, and Edward and Alphonse bid farewell to Izumi. They had learnt what they needed, well, Al had, and they were headed back to Resembool now. This time, Al would be safe.

The train ride was dull, with Ed and Al playing cards or sleeping the whole ride. However, when they arrived back I their home town, they were pleasantly surprised to see that it had not changed at all...not that they had really expected it to. The hills were just as green, the sky just as perfectly blue, the hustle of people moving both to and from the train...it was home. Ed and Al shared a grin.

They practically sprinted the entire way to the house they had mostly vacated after Trisha's death, showing off to each other by doing flips and somersaults the entire way.

It seemed as though nothing in the world could harm the two boys.

\--

Maes was crying.

Earlier he had cried in a sort of numb disbelief, but now he cried in a sort of disbelieving happiness.

They had managed to resuscitate Roy ad drain the fluid. Sure, his friend was a little more than drugged at the moment, drifting in and out of a drugged sleep, but he was alive, and that was all that mattered.

He had waited until he was assured that his friend was as stable as he could get at the moment before leaving to find a phone so he could notify Riza and his darling wife about Roy's miraculous recovery. Wiping his eyes with a goofy sort of grin, he set off with a bounce in his step, cheerfully asking where the nearest phone was hen he found a nurse. Following the given directions, he called Riza first. 

Giving her a short update, he hug up and dialed the new number. 

It took maybe three rings at the most for his sweet Gracia to answer the phone, and her voice, caring and gentle, had all of his remaining stress sliding from his shoulders. 

"Roy's going to be fine," Hughes said, and he could practically see his wife's happy smile. 

"Of course he is, he's Roy." She said, laughing softly as she did. It was a common and widely known fact that Roy could be stubborn as a bull when he needed to, and even in some cases when he didn't.

The conversation stayed to light topics, bringing a smile to both of their faces until Hughes was--ever so politely--informed that other people needed to use the phone too...which was a lie. There was no one else waiting for it.

\--

Edward stood before the figure he knew as Truth once more, a slight smile on his face. 

"Alchemist," The Truth greeted. 

Ed nodded. 

"You've come for your brother, haven't you?" Al, scared and confused, stood behind Truth. Once again, Ed nodded.

"Very well. You may have him." 

Shadowy hands began to grab at him, pulling him into the gate. Edward didn't struggle. He had done this enough to know that it was futile.

They took his legs first. Then his kidney. His arm. They moved over his eyes, and the reels of information around him started to first loose a few colors, then go completely colorless...and then started to go blurry.

When they stopped, he could still see, but everything was in various shades of black and gray, and the outline of both Truth and his little brother seemed blurred.

And even then he still had a smile on his face.

Alphonse was allowed to go with him, shaking and upset but no worse for wear. 

And Edward was happy.

He blacked out from blood loss as soon as they reappeared back in the cellar of their house, but he was happy.

Because Alphonse was safe.

\--1007 Words--


	10. Chapter Ten

Perhaps it was because Ed was drugged out of his mind, or perhaps it was because he was completely numb from blood loss, but when he woke up...he knew something was wrong, but he didn't know what. He couldn't move, his body hurt, and everything was a blur.

It took a moment, but his memories began to return. The transmutation...the toll...Alphonse..! Where was his brother?! He was okay, wasn't he? His breathing began to accelerate, and soon he was almost hyperventilating, tears almost pooling in his eyes. Almost. He bit them back, and blood poured over his tongue from the new tear in his lip. His legs...his arm...an internal organ...his heart, weakened...his sight...

He was a wreck, but for Al...fuck, it was worth it. His little brother...where was he?

"Edward!" A voice called, ridiculously soothing in it's firmness and familiarity. 

Pinako... "Al..." He growled, the attempt more of a slight croak than anything due to his lack of speech, but it was recognizable. He heard a sigh. 

"Fine. But first..." Her voice turned steely. "What foolish thing did you two attempt? Your brother ran all the way here sobbing, hysterical and demanding that we come over right away...what we found..." She sighed. 

With his blurry sight, he cast her an unimpressed look, as he couldn't talk and he was too god damn numb to really do anything.

There was another sigh. "Fine, but you're explaining as soon as you can. And...Edward...whatever happened...you're going to need automail if you want to even be able to move around properly, normal prosthesis' at the very least. Glasses, too. I can tell by just how murky your eyes are that you're near blind as a bat. I'll send Al in."

She left then, and Edward sighed.

The room was in varying shades of black and gray, which looked...odd, like an old photograph. Corners and lines were blurred, and in some cases, seemed to disappear and blur together, forming one, nearly seamless whole.

Al came into the room hesitantly, whole and perfect and flesh and bone and blood, not the cold, expressionless armor he had once, in another life, inhabited for years.

"Brother..?" Alphonse croaked, and there was a flash of pale silver. Ed knew Al was crying.

Ed twitched his fingers, blinking his acknowledgement.

"I'm s-sorry!" Al cried, and Ed made a soft hushing noise, attempting to comfort his brother.

"I-I should have t-told you h-how I felt, that we shouldn't have d-done the transmutation..!" Al was full on sobbing, and Ed made a sound that was almost like a piercing whistle. 

Al silenced himself instantly, although the constant streams of silver flashing down Al's face showed that the waterworks were going full force.

Slowly, through his drugged haze, he made the sign for idiot. Then he signed out 'I love you'. Which seemed to calm his brother a bit before Ed dropped back into a nearly comatose state.

\--Three Months Later--

Edward had had his limbs for a few weeks now, but was still suffering from the occasional spasms that would flash through his muscles at times.

They were painful, and often triggered his chest episodes, which therefore caused him to produce a rather embarrassing choking noise.

But he could walk. He could sign. He could be himself.

He could grab things, even if that particular task was made infinitely harder by his poor eyesight. He had an eye doctor appointment today, to get fitted with glasses, but honestly...he almost felt as though he would be cheating his punishment by wearing them.

And he would have to.

\--An Hour Later--

Ed found himself back at the Rockbell house, looking around and blinking repeatedly at the fact he could actually see better than he had in months...If only slightly. Corners were more clearly defined, and things in general were less blurry.

He had gone with Pinako, with Al and Winry staying behind to do something or another while he got himself fitted with the stupid glasses that made him look about a billion times more nerd-ish.

Pinako said they made him look more his age.

In other words, an age that he wasn't. Like a kid. 

They were simple really. Two pieces of heavily prescriptioned glass set in red plastic.

He was rather content with them merely for the color and how they seemed to help him--even if he couldn't actually see the color. He had had to ask the woman who had been assisting him what color they were.

He walked into the house without assistance, which made him feel ridiculously proud, only to see his brother attempting a handstand while Winry was making joke after joke. He could almost guarantee that it was a contest to see how long Al could stay like that while laughing.

Ed let out an amused breath, walking up to his brother, and, ignoring the slight warning of 'Brother, don't', he jabbed Al lightly in the side. His younger brother went toppling, laughing and whining at the same time. 

Ed grinned.

"Brother, you jerk!" Alphonse whined, his brown-gold eyes positively shining in amusement. 

Winry was staring at his face thoughtfully. "Hey, alchemy freak?"

He looked at her, raising an eyebrow in a questioning manner.

"You look like a nerd." She smirked.

Ed whined slightly, but signed 'I knew it!' 

Al piped up then. "Don't listen to her, brother. They suit you." 

"That's what I said. He's being stubborn, the shrimp." Ed glared at Pinako, who had followed him inside. 

'Shut up, you old hag!' He signed, glaring halfheartedly.

There was a knocking at the door.

Blinking in confusion behind her glasses, Pinako went to answer it, while Ed, Al, and Winry shared a confused glance.

Ed thought he knew who it might be, but was rather uncertain. The person who he thought it was had visited, in is past life, only a few days after his and Alphonse's failed transmutation. It had been months with no sign of Roy Mustang.

But it turned out he had been correct. 

The man ignored Pinako's outrage exclamation of "You can't just barge in here!" 

He strode confidently, every bit the bastard Edward remembered.

But he wasn't, either.

His face was pale, and the skin underneath his eyes appeared bruised, as though he had gotten far too little sleep.

He was shaky too. It was a very, very well concealed flaw. He suspected only he could see it, as he had known the man for so long. 

With a jolt, he realized just whom Truth had given his sickness too.

He felt sick.

Mustang would die.

Because of him.

God fucking damn it.

\--1123 Words--


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed just can't catch a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Thank you to everyone who's gave kudos while I was gone, it means a lot to me that you like this :)

"What did you do?" Mustang growled, spotting Edward and Alphonse almost immediately. 

Winry stared for a moment, cerulean eyes wide before she sprinted upstairs, obviously no wanting to be around the self confident bastard for any longer than she had to.

Edward didn't blame her, really.

A hand was suddenly fisting in the front of his shirt, and he was being lifted ever so slightly. "What," Roy growled again, voice low. "Did you do, Elric?" 

His eyes widened slightly when Ed started to tap Dorset onto his chest.

'Human transmutation. Alphonse didn't want to, so leave him the hell alone.' 

Roy's eyes narrowed. "You can't speak?"

'Well no shit, asshole.'

Mustang bristled at that. "I am a state certified alchemist, Elric. Just who do you think you're calling an asshole now, huh?" 

Ed blinked. That was simple. 'You.' He tapped, a slight smirk crossing his lips.

He noticed that Roy seemed to back off a bit, seemingly wary of how he was acting.

It was rather amusing.

"You're Edward?" Roy said after a moment.

Ed nodded, smirking still.

Roy set Edward down, letting out a hefty sounding sigh as he grumbled about brattish, insubordinate children.

"Anything else I should know?" He growled. 

'Well, you see, I'm near as blind as a bat, I'm missing a kidney, I have automail, and my body, in general, despises me.' Ed tapped, a pleasant smile on his face.

Roy blanched.

\--

After nearly an hour of Roy, Ed, and occasionally Al going back in forth in conversation, the man left, shooed from the house by a positively pissed Pinako.

'Well, that went well.' Ed signed, grinning.

Pinako glared. "Upstairs now, mister." And so Edward trudged obediently up the stairs, his automail thunking quietly on the stairs.

\--

That night was not a good one for Edward. He woke up from an all to real nightmare of Alec, and had promptly thrown up all over himself which was bad in itself. Add in the attack that seized his small body, and the the coughing fits that came afterwords...well, he was miserable.

He was even more miserable once he had gotten changed and changed the sheets on his bed as he had started coughing again, trying to satisfy the itch in the back of his throat.

He froze when he felt something slick on the palm of his hand directly after a particularly violent cough.

He had looked at his hand, and internally panicked for a moment at the blood he saw there. 

Shakily, he didn't hesitate to head to Pinako's room. He knocked, and only had to wait a few moments, in which he couldn't stop himself from coughing more, before she opened the door.

"What is it? You should be in be-" She froze as Edward lifted up his hand, the blood gleaming on it before his small frame was wracked with more coughing, blood trickling from his mouth.

"Get in here, Edward." Her tone was serious, with a hint of worry. Once he had done as told, in several lurching steps, she closed the door behind him and instructed him to sit on the bed and focus on breathing without coughing.

"Tell me what happened." She ordered as she bustled around.

And so he began signing, taking in shallow but prolonged breaths to keep the wretched coughing at bay.

'Had a nightmare. Woke up and threw up. Had an attack after that. Then I started coughing. After a few minutes was when the blood started coming up.' He signed.

"There's too much stress on your body," Pinako grumbled. "Wait here. I'll get you something that will knock you out til at least noon tomorrow. It will help you recuperate and sleep without disturbances."

Ed nodded carefully, not sure of the action would set off another coughing fit.

"Go back to your room. I'll bring you the medication. I'll expect you take one every other night, just so that you get more sleep. You can't fool me, boy. I know you haven't been sleeping well." She said sternly.

Ed almost shrank away from her as he looked away and nodded slightly.

So he returned to his room after taking a bathroom stop to rinse his hand and mouth of blood. Once he had curled up under the fresh sheets, he awaited Pinako's arrival with the medication. He did not have to wait long.

She wordlessly handed him a bottle, and left the room with a warning. "Only one, every other night. If I find out you're taking more than that, I will beat your ass across the country." She said calmly, watching as he dry swallowed one of the pills before leaving the room.

Edward had no doubts about what she said being true as he almost immediately fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

\--

He didn't wake until late in the afternoon the next day, his body having had taken the chance it had been given eagerly in order to get some well needed rest.

His body, however, felt as though he had been hit with a train, and his eyelids had been glued together with gunk, which took ages to completely clear out.

Of course, he did, and right after that he shoved his glasses onto his face so he could somewhat properly see.

He dressed, and stumbled down the stairs blearily.

"About time you woke up, Edward. You almost missed dinner." At the mention of food, Edward's stomach growled loudly, although he wasn't all that hungry at the moment.

He let out a breath of annoyance in reply, feeling dead on his feet.

Pinako chuckled at him, while Alphonse and Winry looked at him in concern. 

Edward was known for sleeping in, but never as long as he had today. And the fact that Pinako hadn't told either of them to wake him up concerned them as well. Had something happened while they had been sleeping?

The meal continued in relative silence as Edward picked grudgingly at his food, as if it had wronged him in some unforgivable way.

Silly, of course, but it helped Edward feel better. Somehow.

\--1016 Words--


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update schedule will return to mostly normal. I'll notify you guys if that happens to change. I'll be posting another two chapters today after this one as an apology for having been gone.

Edwards body both welcomed and rejected the new medication.

Welcomed it by diminishing the tired, almost sickly appearance he held, and rejected it by not allowing him to wake up whenever his nightmares decided to cause him to vomit, which meant he would be vomiting...while asleep. After the first few times of that happening, however, Ed noticed his body starting to try and save him from choking on stomach acid and bile by waking him up just enough to lean over and vomit into the trash can that Pinako had so kindly placed next to his bed. 

Ed knew that Winry and Al were worried by his almost lazy, careless ways on the days after he took his sleep medicine, and the unusual restlessness on the days when he wasn't in a haze due to his drug induced sleep. When asked about it, he would merely shrug it off. 

Pinako eventually told them exactly why Ed all of the sudden seemed so sluggish, and they backed off. 

\--

Months passed without any sign of an attack, and Ed let himself relax a bit more. He had just woken up from one of his deep, medicated sleeps when it struck with a vengeance.

The pain was excruciating, made worse because of him being unused to it from the months of it not being there. Made worse by the drugs which tried to keep his breathing and heart rate slow to make it easy for him to slip back into slumber even as his body thrashed about.

Bile licked at the back of his throat, burning his nostrils before it spilled into his mouth and out as he thumped heavily onto the floor, still writhing and clawing at his chest.

He was vaguely aware of his bedroom door slamming against the wall as it was opened violently in someone's rush to get to him before his world went black.

He was left in a vortex of pain and an odd sense of peace. Would it really be so bad if he were to die like this..? He'd gotten so many chances...was it finally time for him to go? Hell, he'd had a second life. His brother was in the flesh, he could go on without him...

Edward felt himself slipping away.

\--

Roy Mustang was not a happy man. He was still in the damned hospital, and all of the cute nurses had apparently heard of his "three dates and gone" ways.

It wasn't his fault that he wasn't interested for longer time periods than that. 

Back to the hospital problem, however. They treated him like he was some damned little girl made of glass. Even Maes did, and it was infuriating. He almost actually missed Hawkeye and her gun. Almost.

With a sigh, he shifted, poking in a most bored manner at the IV in his arm.

It was basically the only amusement he had besides annoy the doctor who came in to check on him on when he would be released.

After several tries at this and receiving only unimpressed looks, he finally had his answer.

Whenever this damned IV drip was empty. 

It was set on minimal flow and was three quarters full. He'd probably be there for another few hours.

Thinking about this, he resigned himself to being bored out of his mind for the next eternity.

He had been rather disoriented when he had first woken up, having, for him, gone from sitting in his office to laying in a hospital bed in a very unmanly gown and a breathing mask attached to his face.

Hughes had looked like shit when he'd first seen him, appearing tired and slouching as he walked. But when he saw that Roy was awake, he straightened up with a bright grin and instantly bombarded his friend with photos of his 'darling Elysia and beautiful wife Gracia'. 

But, surprisingly, he had stopped when told to and hadn't even pouted. 

When asked what had happened, he looked slightly uncomfortable before he decided to give it to Roy straight. "Listen," he had said. "You had pneumonia. You blacked out in your office and we had to call the hospital. They carried your sorry ass here and got you stabilized for a bit. Then you flat lined. You died, Roy. Obviously the resuscitated you, but still. After that you went into a week long coma before you woke up today."

Roy mulled this over. "And?" He said, looking at the far wall.

Hughes hesitated. "And...if you get it again, especially that bad..." 

"Just say it."

"You could die. And even if you didn't, there would be some damn bad complications and you would die anyways." Hughes shrugged helplessly.

But that had been a few days before, and right now? Roy was just itching to get out.

Roy sighed again, closing his eyes and letting the muted sounds of the hospital lull him into an almost asleep state.

\--

Beep...

Beep...

Beep...

Beep...

What was that sound..?

Beep...

Beep...

Beep...

Beep...

It was annoying...why couldn't it just stop..?

Beep...

Beep...

Beep...

Beep...

It was starting to get fainter. 

Beep...

...

Beep...

...

Beep...

...

Beep...

The sound faded away completely and Edward was left, floating in the black.

\--

Al never moved from his brother's side unless it was absolutely necessary. He barely ate, and there were deep purple bags underneath his honey colored eyes. To see his brother like this, so pale and frail in appearance, golden hair framing his face loosely...it was saddening.

Pinako didn't know exactly what had triggered this sudden comatose state, but she knew it had something to do with one of his brother's attacks.

Al swallowed thickly, hanging his head as he tightened his grip on his older brother's hand.

Edward needed to live through this. He needed to.

Alphonse didn't know how he would live in a world without the feisty spirit of his brother, the witty remarks that his brother signed and seemed so smug about.

He didn't know.

All he could do was listen to the slow but rhythmic beeping of the heart moniter.

\--1015 Words--


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed can't catch a break...ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third post today, one left!

A month passed.

Then two.

Ed still hadn't woken up.

And that was why Pinako and Alphonse were arguing.

Pinako wanted to move him to a better hospital in Central, preferably, while Alphonse was arguing that he should stay in Resembool, where he'd be more familiar with his surroundings and would heal faster.

And all the while, Edward was content in just floating in the peaceful, if at times painful, blackness.

He could tell his brother was worrying, but he also was human, and humans were selfish.

All he wanted was to stay in this peace for as long as possible.

Sometimes he could hear Winry humming, hear his brother let of a ragged sigh as he was forced to move from his brother's side.

Sometimes he could hear distant yelling.

Sometime he could hear his brother crying quietly beside him.

And yet he still couldn't wake up.

He wouldn't.

He didn't want to.

\--

Things were looking worse and worse as the days and weeks drew on. Pinako had finally won, and Ed had been moved to a Central hospital, where he was watched constantly.

He grew thinner and thinner in the bed he laid in, his face growing sharp in an healthy sort of way due to him being unable to eat in his comatose state. A endotracheal tube was in his throat, a ventilator pumping air in and out of his lungs through it. It was a truly saddening thing to see.

But something happened one day. The hospital was quiet, for once, and then he was there. 

Roy Mustang. 

"Edward Elric. I heard you were in here. You probably can't hear me, but if you can...you're a shrimp and you damn well owe me some answers for all the stuff you knew. I prevented the state from executing you and your brother by falsifying a report. Which, if discovered, could very well cost me my job. Be grateful, brat." Roy snorted derisively.

"Did you know I was here not all that long ago? A few months, maybe. Pneumonia, of all things. Apparently I almost died. Hell, I did die. Thankfully, they were able to bring me back. But just between you, me and Maes...if I get it again...that's it. Why am I even telling you this? It's not like you can hear me." Roy laughed dryly. He rambled on about various trivial things for a while before sighing, standing from the uncomfortable plastic chair he had attempted to make himself comfortable in, fixing his shirt as he did.

"If you wake up, when you wake up, whatever...I expect to see you at the State Alchemist Exams." There was a slightly smug smirk on his face. 

Ed's eyes opened, those murky gold yes still vibrant under the florescent lights.

Then squeezed shut, unprepared for the sudden brilliant light that pervaded his vision instead of the blackness he had become accustomed to.

Roy seemed shocked for a moment, internally panicking because holy fuck a kid that hadn't woken up for anyone, not even his family and best friend apparently, just fucking woke up when he was talking. 

He practically ran to the door, shouting for a nurse. Soon enough, the room was basically flooded with nurses checking vitals and a few doctors who seemed rather perplexed by the child's sudden return to the land of awareness,

Pinako and Alphonse and Winry were immediately alerted, and arrived only fifteen minutes later. Roy knew it was a forty minute drive from their hotel to the hospital, and he shuddered internally to think of what laws they had broke whilst driving to the hospital in order to have gotten there so quickly.

They joined Roy in pacing the hall outside of the room, as they had gotten kicked out in order for the staff to be able to properly do their job.

\--

Ed was confused. He had heard the bastard talking. He swore he had. But his vision, bad as it was without his glasses, could hardly make out individual faces as his eyes darted around the room. People who he assumed were nurses swarmed around him moved quickly, only causing them to appear even more blurred. That, combined with their rather loud voices, gave Ed a rather intense headache. God how he wished he could talk so he could tell them to shut the fuck up, please.

And so he could tell the bastard he wasn't short.

He couldn't tell how long it was before the people finally deemed it okay to leave him alone, leaving the room but leaving the accursed tube in his throat. He could breathe just fine, dammit!

The door opened again, and the gray and black, blurred figures of his brother, Winry, Pinako and the bastard himself. He managed to twitch a finger in greeting, his body feeling like lead as he did. 

God damn he needed his glasses. At least with them he could make out expressions somewhat clearly, without them, he could see blobs and that was about it.

"Brother..." Al whispered, pure disbelief, shock and happiness rolled into one as he uttered that single word. Even without his glasses, he could tell that Alphonse was too skinny, and guilt immediately overtook him with a force equivalent to a tidal wave. This was his fault. 

\--

The four had visited for an hour before they were kicked out by the staff, which left Ed alone in his thoughts, staring blankly at the door, hoping someone, anyone, would come through and alleviate his boredom even if only somewhat.

He ended up drifting off every now and then, his dreams filled with the image of Alphonse as he was, too skinny and looking terrible, the knowledge that Roy was going to die because of him, and the knowledge that he had been too weak to fight against his own selfishness and drag himself from the coma. And, of course, there were the usual nightmares of Alec.

Those combined made sure he wasn't able to fall asleep completely.

\--

It was around seven in the morning when Ed, who had given up on sleep, heard the door click open. There was the sharp yet quiet sound of new shoes on the floor, and when Ed managed to focus in on the person who by that time was standing by his bed, he immediately wanted to curl up into a ball and just sob uncontrollably. His vision may be bad, but he could still tell who it was. God he wished he couldn't. He wished they would go away and just leave him alone already. He saw more than enough of the man in his nightmares already...

"Hey there, Edward. Miss me?" Alec smirked, leaning over Ed and taking pure enjoyment in the sheer terror and hate and resigned defeat in those dulled, murky gold eyes.

~1140 Words~


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: AGAIN, MENTIONS OF RAPE. IF NOT COMFORTABLE OR IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY THE SUBJECT, PLEASE DO NOT READ. 
> 
> In other words, Ed feels like he's going to have a bad time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely forgot that I was supposed to post this chapter a few hours ago, but here it is now! Chapter fourteen. j

Edward was having trouble breathing, the air being pumped in and out of him not seeming to have any effect on him. They had removed his heart rate monitor, deeming him stable enough to not need it.

"What the matter? Little Edward scared?" Alec taunted. "No one's going to come in here, kid. No one's going to help you. I'm friends with a few of your nurses and when they told me a kid with golden eyes was here...well, I knew I had to come and say hello." He said, climbing up onto the bed and straddling the thin child's body.

Edward was deathly still under Alec, his body trembling and eyes widened with fear. Not again...please not again. He didn't know if he could handle it again. He was too weak to fight back. Please not again.

The mantra continued that way as Alec continued to talk, even bringing up the previous rape with a sly smirk.

"You're no more than a toy, Edward. No more than a toy to be used and tossed aside to be forgotten once the user is done with them." They lifted their weight for just a moment to pull the thin sheet off of Ed's body, revealing his thin body only covered by a oversized, mint green hospital gown. Like this, his automail was displayed, gleaming dully in the darkness. 

"And broken, too. Who would want to even be near some one as broken, as frail as you?" He tutted, tapping a finger on the port of his shoulder. "You didn't even fight when I fucked you last. You just laid there and took it." He snickered, pulling up the gown.

That was when the tears started to slip from Ed's eyes. 

He found himself praying to a God he didn't believe in that someone would come to help him.

Nobody did.

\--

Alec left a little while after that, a carefully crafted neutral, bordering on sad expression on his face. He had done the numb, in pain and crying Ed the decency of covering him, but had murmured three little words in his ear before leaving that left Edward scared and hopeless. 'I'll be back'. 

He had trained so hard.

He'd gotten stronger to prevent this. But at the very sight of him, his atrophied muscles, already weak enough to hardly be able to move his automail, failed him. He was completely defenseless against being violated again.

He was still shaking and crying and numb inside when Alphonse finally was allowed into the room an hour later.

His brother was instantly fretting over him, worriedly asking him questions he was too tired or upset to answer. Over all, he wanted to slip right back into that coma and possibly even further, into the welcoming embrace of death that he had experienced twice before. 

Edward's body was sore, and when the nurses had him get up to begin his physical therapy and he collapsed from not having walked in so long, as well as the stabbing, aching pain in his rear, he curled inwards and cried more. 

\--

A month passed, and Edward was slowly getting back on his feet. He flinched at every unexpected movement, froze up whenever he saw someone who even vaguely reminded him of Alec, and speaking of the bastard, their words ran through his head, day in and day out. When he saw himself in the mirror when he went to the bathroom and saw how thin and frail he looked, how much he struggled with building up enough muscle to even use his automail again, that's when the words hit him the hardest. 

His hair lay dull and knotted over his shoulders, and the unhealthy thinness to his face had only diminished slightly. and every single damn time he saw his automail, heard its clacking against the floors, he heard the voice of Alec say those dreaded words once more.

"You're no more than a toy, Edward. No more than a toy to be used and tossed aside to be forgotten once the user is done with them. And broken, too. Who would want to even be near some one as broken, as frail as you?"" He would hear, the words soft and almost pitying, right next to his ear, would feel the ghostly hands of his violator running over his body. 

He felt more disgusting than ever.

He was a freak.

Impure.

Weak.

Broken.

A toy left behind only for those who found it to use.

\--750 Words--


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Edward was released from the hospital three weeks later, declared healthy physically but on a rather high prescription of pain meds for both his chest and the steel ports that pained him so terribly in the colder months that they were quickly entering.

He was scrawny, and was forced to wear a lighter, less sturdy prosthesis while he regained muscle mass. He got winded easily now, from not having had exercised in months, and Alphonse was constantly fretting over him.

And he hated it.

He wanted to be himself again, the strong person he used to be in his past life, not this weak, violated, impure imitation. 

\--

Two months later found Edward passing the State Alchemy exam, as well as Alphonse. Ed wasn't all too happy about that, but there really wasn't anything he could do about it. Alphonse shared the same stubbornness he did, and seemed ton think that Ed couldn't take care of himself.

Which...

Ed feared he may be right. 

He was useless without his glasses, and if he even so much thought of the man who had reduced him to this, he went into full on panic mode. 

He was underweight without his automail, muscle mass not wanting to return easily, and with the automail he was constantly becoming exhausted, running himself to the ground and working himself until he was sometimes actually spitting blood. It wasn't healthy, but it was a small price to pay for even a semblance of normalcy.

\--

Ed dreamt.

He dreamt of pain, of whispered words and foreboding promises, promises of fear and promises that they would be back to claim Ed once again.

He woke with a scream that no one could hear.

\--

Ed was awake, now.

Staring listlessly out the window, his automail fingers were drumming a rhythmic pattern out onto the windowsill. 

He didn't move that day, completely zoned out and unwilling to even acknowledge his brother's worried pleas.

\--

Ed fell asleep, his eyes twitching restlessly under their lids, face screwed up ever so faintly in a show of his pain.

He woke up, shuddering. 

"Not real," he would mouth to himself. "Not real." It was unclear whether he was speaking about the dream or reality at this point, his once fiery golden eyes dull from pain.

\--

Broken.

\--

He passed the State Alchemist exams with flying colors three months later. 

Ed agreed to wear the uniform, too tired to argue against it.

\--

The days passed in gray, blurred flashes that he could hardly distinguish from one another.

He took no joy from the snow that fell from the sky as he used to.

\--435 Words--  
Thank you to everyone who has left kudos on this story, despite the lack of updates in the past two months or so. I will publish the rest of the chapters I already have written today, but expect some wonky updates from there.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Edward didn't want to move that day.

He wanted to close his eyes, and not move a muscle.

Not because he was lazy, oh no, not at all.

Merely because he was sick of this life.

If he didn't have people to protect still, people who would die without his knowledge of the future, who he needed to protect...

Well, Alphonse was strong enough to get by without him.

He wanted to fade away and never cone back.

So he tried his best, laying perfectly still, not moving a muscle, eyes closed just enough so that everything was black around him.

Al wouldn't be back for a while, as he was out exploring Central some more, so he had time.  
\--

His plans for the day were rudely interrupted by one bastard of a Colonel named Mustang.

"Elric!" The man barked, fist banging on the door heavily. "Elric I swear I will break this door down!"

When he didn't respond by his usual few rough taps on the wall, he heard a muffled curse from outside.  Ed couldn't even bring himself to smile even slightly at the man's obvious frustration as he once would have. No, he instead just merely twitched a finger and went back to the white, glaringly familiar void that had become so common in his daydreaming.

He didn't flinch when he heard the door be kicked open. He didn't flinch when he heard footsteps moving towards him.

He did flinch when he opened his eyes and Mustang was staring down at him, glaring.

Suddenly it wasn't Mustang anymore.

His breath hitched, panic rising up in his throat, bile following not far behind. Ed wasn't aware of moving, not in the least, but he had gone from laying flat to curled up into a ball in the corner of his bed, as far away from Mustang as he could get, within only a few seconds 

"What, don't want to play?" Alec's voice hissed in his ear, hands running over his body, finding the edge of his shirt. "Too bad. You're mine. You'll always be, as broken and useless as you are. No one else will want you, ever, so you should just stop already. Stop fighting. You're mine."

Ed, unaware of the now concerned Colonel, only curled up tighter, wheezing breaths leaving his lips rapidly. Not enough air, not enough air...suffocating...hecouldntbreathehecouldntbreathehecouldntbreathe...

"Fullmetal!" Mustang snapped, shaking his subordinate roughly in hopes of snapping them out of the seeming trance they were in.

Rough lips on his as he struggled to get away, shaking heavily. Hecouldn'tbreathe. 

Useless. Pathetic. Worthless. He was filth. Trash. Unloved, unwanted, and unneeded. 

"Fullmetal!" Mustang tried again, this time going for an even more physical route that, usually, worked on others. He slapped the alchemist straight across the face with a resounding crack that seemed to linger in the still air 

"Fullmetal, are you all right?" His voice was softer now as he tried to pull Edward fully from...whatever it was he had just witnesses. The rage from earlier about the boy not having showed up on time had completely faded away with this new, unforseen development.

The only response was for Ed to curl in tighter in himself, a feat that Mustang hadn't known was possible. 

"Fullmetal, look at me." He murmured, sighing in relief as Edward finally, finally, looked at him, eyes teary and panicked, seeming to finally focus in on him, who he was.

He mouthed Mustang's name, a look of complete and utter shame and guilt on his face. Roy nodded, carefully, oh so carefully, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "Edward, I need to know what that was, to make sure it doesn't happen again. Is there any way-?" He cut himself off when Ed began to shakily mime writing. 

Mustang nodded immediately, starting to look around for the notepad Edward often kept with them, as well as for a pen. 

Locating both items in the inner pockets of Edward's coat, he hastily brought them over to his subordinate, subconsciously worrying his lip. 

Had he been the one who caused that..?

Ed's hands trembled terribly as he wrote, but eventually, he held out the notebook to Roy, averting his eyes and going back to curling himself into a ball as tightly as he could. 

What Roy read made his vision seemingly cloud up in a crimson haze of pure, unbridled wrath.

There, in Edward's chicken scratch handwriting that was only made worse by the trembling, lay a story Roy knew with a sinking feeling of dread was the pure truth.

This first, you need to understand. It sounds insane, but it's true. Please believe this. 

Just the please made him more then willing to believe whatever this boy, frail and broken, had to say to him.

When I was twenty eight, I was assassinated. I don't know by who, but I can only assume it was some sort of revenge deal. I died instantly, and was brought to a realm of stark white as far as you can see. The gate. 

The figure there, the Truth, told me I had two choices. One was to 'move on', and actually die, and the other was to be reborn to save the people who had died who had not been meant to.

I chose the latter, and was  sent back to the moment of my birth. The toll was my voice and half my life, and I have been mute ever since. I have no idea when I'll die, whether it be in only a few years, at fourteen, or whenever I was meant to die truly, if I had not been killed.

An unforseen development showed itself a few years later, when I basically felt the moment of my death again without the numbing quality of death itself. 

My attacks, I guess you could say, are never small. They're long and drawn out, and leave me aching for hours, sometimes a whole day.

My...

The writing  to hesitate before forging on. 

My father apparently couldn't bear it, and requested the aid of a traveller who claimed he could help.

The quality of the writing only got worse from there. 

He sent my father outside and he...and he raped me. I couldn't do anything. I was weak. I am weak. I'm supposed to be saving all of these people but I couldn't even save myself. 

He looks almost exactly like you.

Roy didn't realize he was crying until a salty tear splashed onto the paper, smearing the ink. "I'm sorry," He said, voice cracking. 

Why did he care so much?

Why?

Was it because they had been raped?

Was it because all that Ed had wanted was to save the people he had most likely cared about and whom had died last time, but instead had all this absolute shit dumped on him?

Or was it because they had, all of them had, gone all of this time without noticing anything? That Ed would never be able to look at him without seeing the man who had taken away something so, so very precious?

He didn't seem to be able to think straight anymore, and without even a second of hesitation, wrapped his arms around the boy-who-was-actually-older-than-him and pulled them close in a rare, very, very rare show of affection. 

Roy felt his heart shatter when Ed froze, and the trembling began anew. 

\--1242 Words--


	17. Chapter Seventeen

(The first half of this is just a little thing I thought up. Its not in any way essential to the progression of the book itself. You may skip it if you wish.)

\--Unknown P.O.V--

Calm.

She had to look calm. Nonchalant.

Appearing calm was more difficult than it had any right to be that day, it seemed. Her heart was pounding, and her grip on the case she carried was slick from sweat. 

Calm.

Anticipation coursed through her veins as she entered one of the taller hotels that faced the Central Parade Grounds, and booked a room 'with a view'.

She got what she wished for, a room facing the grounds and on the second to the top floor. Closing and locking the door, she barely spared a glance to her surroundings. Immediately, she crossed over to the window, pulled back the blinds, and peered out.

Nodding, she let the blinds fall back into place as she sat down at the small writing desk that had been placed near the window, and set down the case with a light thud.

Opening it, she gazed upon what it contained; one, currently disassembled, military grade sniper rifle, complete with a sound suppressor. 

Today was the day she avenged her brother. 

Alec McHyver had been arrested by the Fullmetal Alchemist, and later sentenced to be executed by Führer Bradley himself for several accounts of breaking and entering, child molestation, and armed robbery.

While the Führer was now dead, which in itself brought great satisfaction to her, the one truly responsible for her brother's death remained alive. 

But not for long.

Today was the day she avenged him, and even if she herself were caught and therefore executed...Well, it would be worth it.

For even the wrongs her brother had committed could not shake her view that her brother was innocent.

Three hours she waited, constantly pacing, glancing out the window, ready; her heart racing. 

Three hours.

Then, as the new Führer, Roy Mustang, and his right hand man, Edward Elric, reached the small podium where they would deliver the customary, three minute long speech before the festivities truly began, she opened the window.

Assembled the rifle with practised ease to the sound of Roy Mustang's voice droning on faintly in the background. 

Got into position.

Aimed.

And fired.

Edward Elric died with a look of utter surprise on his face, standing protectively in front of the Führer, as if to ward off another shot even as he died.

She was later arrested, and executed by the burning flames of the Führer himself.

And if anyone saw the single tear that ran down Roy's face at the loss of another friend that would later turn into a torrent of them once he was alone, no one dared to mention it.   
\--End--

Edward woke, not exactly sure when he had even fallen asleep, but more than willing to embrace the warmth, the pure contentment, that he was feeling in that moment. This was the first night in a long while where he woke up, not from a nightmare, but a rather pleasant dream.

He had dreamt of a night long ago, when his mother lived and his father hummed songs from a long forgotten language.

It had been winter, if he remembered correctly, and he was curled up next to his mom on the couch, watching sleepily as she read to him from an old fairy tale book they had found in the market.

Alphonse, not yet two, had already gone to bed, and his father had retired to sleep as well.

Ed had adamantly refused to go to bed until he got some alone time with his mom, and he could pretend as though he was the only child once again. Having a sibling was exhausting. This was from his past life, when he could speak, and he did so then. "Hey, mom?" He mumbled, half asleep.

"Yes, Ed?" Her voice was patient, wonderfully so, caring, and utterly loving.

But Ed had already fallen asleep, warm and safe, curled up next to her, his breathing slowing and falling into a gentle rhythm.

A smile lifted the corners of Trisha's lips.

She let her son sleep soundly next to her for almost a half an hour before gently, as to not wake him, scooping him into her arms and carrying him into his and Al's room. 

\--

Ed opened his eyes, the world coming into it's usual gray, blurry focus around him. 

"About time you woke up, Edward. Was getting worried." Ed paused, looking over to where he had heard the voice. Mustang?

It was, indeed, Mustang, who appeared to be reading through some files. He sat up, just barely able to hide a wince as his stiff muscles protested the movement.

He grabbed his glasses from the bedside table and placed them on his face. The world now more in focus, he once again looked at Mustang, and pointed to the files they held, head cocked to the side.

'What are those?' Was what the look basically said, and Mustang took little time at all to inform him.

"They're the criminal records of one Alec McHyver." He held up a picture, and there, right there, was a clear image of the man whom had done the unforgivable to him. 

Who stalked his dreams and his every second around his commanding officer.

\--898 Words--


	18. Chapter Eighteen

"Sir, are you sure you don't want me to drive?" Riza's terse voice questioned as the snow fell even thicker outside the car. It was near whiteout conditions, and the tire chains were hardly helping on the slick roads as they moved forward at a mere forty five miles per hour.

"Riza, for the last time, I'm fine. We're nearly there, anyways." Roy reassured her with a sigh. He had had to pick her up this morning, due to her car not deeming it worthy to start in the colder than average temperatures. "There'd be no point in having the both of us get out and switching seats in that blizzard just so you can drive for five minutes." 

"Sir." She sighed, looking forward once more.

Right as a car that had taken a sharp turn around the next corner hit them head on. 

Roy's last conscious thoughts were a mixture of terror and despair that he hadn't been able to help Ed get rid of the bastard that wore a face nearly identical to Roy's own, the bastard who had raped Edward so violently.

Blackness swallowed him then.

\--

Ed shivered as he walked, stuffing his hands deep in the pockets of his coat. Al's armour clanked beside him. "I told you to put another coat on, brother! I told you it would be cold out, and what did you say? 'I'll be fine'?" Al chided gently, no real bite to his words. 

Both paid no attention to the sirens that rapidly approached until several ambulances and one of the standard police cars raced passed them. 

The brothers barely spared a glance at each other before they started running after the cars, Ed pushing his body to its still weakened limit, his breath coming in silent puffs.

What they were greeted with was somehow even more horrible than they had thought. 

A dazed but thankfully alive, even if not uninjured Hawkeye was being dragged from the wreckage of a car with a, for Ed, all too familiar car. Al had only seen the car once or twice before...but Ed? He had been driven to and from Central Command several times in that car in his previous life. He had learned to drive in that car.

He had been driven home after getting a bit too drunk after parties where he even deemed drinks worth his time. 

Right now, he didn't feel dirty, like usually did since the rape. He didn't feel weak. He didn't freeze, and he didn't want to cry. He just felt numb. 

Because that was Roy Mustang's car, and now his deal with Truth had most likely just come to fruition. 

He didn't realize he was running towards the car until he was already there, helping the paramedics frantically try and dig out the driver. When they did, Ed could immediately tell that something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

Mustang's eyes were open, glazed over in terror as his body shook. His breathing was uneven, coming first too fast, later dangerously slow, and it sounded like he was trying not to choke on something.

The only thing that Ed heard the paramedics say was that Roy was having a seizure.

And that he might not make it.

\--

Edward Elric was a mess. Tears were rolling down his face, blood spattered the pillow he clutched tightly to his face and chest. His hair was tangled and loose around his shoulders, and his small frame was wracked with small tremors. His small frame was continuously wracked with coughs that hurt deep within his chest. He should have been able to stop what had happened. He should have been able to

Dead.

Roy Mustang, at age thirty, had died.

Wounds from the car accident, as well as the seizure he had had had killed him on the operating table to save him.

And Edward had only himself to blame.

Alphonse hadn't had the same bond with the man as Ed had; only a few did, with Riza and Hughes being two of them. 

Ed had no doubt that both were in similar situations as Ed was in the current moment.

-

Riza was taking out her emotions by repeatedly shooting into a target that was as far back as she could get it to go. Tears blurred her vision, and she blinked them back to the best of her ability.

Her hands and arms had long since gone numb from the recoil of the guns she used, and yet she didn't stop.

She couldn't.

Why hadn't she insisted further? Why hadn't she sensed the incoming danger?

This was all her fault.

\--

Maes Hughes was a wreck. He had just gotten the news, and now he was curled up next to his wife, his darling, understanding wife. It was his day off of work, thank god, because he didn't know how he would be able to get through the day after this.

His best friend had died.

And as Gracia, his beautiful, compassionate wife held him, he broke down completely, using the hour or so before his precious daughter woke to let all the tears that needed to fall, fall 

\--

Alphonse was worried.

He had never seen his brother break down so fiercely.

Not once.

So it was confusing at best, downright concerning at worst.

His brother had always seemed to hate, barely tolerate the man who had died, so why was he so affected by this?

It was terrible that Roy had died, truly, and Alphonse, if he we're less concerned about his brother, would have most definitely shed a few tears. 

But not to this extent.

Never to this extent.

Ed was basically destroying himself. He had been one of the first people to head towards the car, screaming out a violent denial as he did so. He had been the one to start digging him and Hawkeye out of the burning wreckage, not caring that his hands, metal as they were, were not meant to handle people after being subjected to fire.

He would just end up hurting them further.

But he had to as least try.

And try he did.

\--

Now the boy who was nearing forty two in a few months felt nothing at all besides grief and self hatred.

Why, why, did he have to always fuck everything up? 

Why was he so weak?

Alec was right.

He was worthless. Useless. Unwanted.

He wanted to die.

But he couldn't, or else everything, all of the pain and suffering, would be for nothing.

\--1053 Words--


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it for now. I am working on the next chapter though, and I'll try to get it out as quick as I can.

Ed woke up gritty eyed and confused. As he tried to remember why, exactly, he felt as though he'd been hit by a train, he sat up with a quiet groan. With a tired flail of his hand next to him, he located his glasses and nearly poked his own eye out with them as he tried to put them on at first.

Mornings. Curse them.

Barely a moment later, the shrill sound of the alarm clock that Alphonse must have wound for him filled the air. With a silent yelp, Ed jumped, accidentally falling out of bed. He hit the floor with a metallic clang and an internal stream of various curse words. He laid there for few minutes, trying in vain to gather the will to get up and be productive. 

He had to report to make a report to Mustang soon...so why did he just want to lay here? Why did the thought of Mustang fill him with such inconceivable dread? Why did he just want to curl up and cry? He didn't know,  but he wanted to find out.

But his muscles were like lead. His automail wasn't responding. He could barely move his head to look around. Just the thought of getting up seemed to have drained from him the last of his energy. Even as he tried one last time to get up, his chest clenched up in a terrifyingly familiar way.

Moments later, he was in intense, burning agony as he lay prone on the floor.

He laid there for an hour. Two hours.

At three hours the pain began to fade, but he had been reduced to coughing once more. Blood was spattered on the floor in front of him, and the coppery taste filled his mouth.

The alarm clock was still going, a shrieking, loud noise that was nearly driving him mad.

Almost four hours passed before there was a sound from outside of the dormitory he and Alphonse shared. The door opened, and there was the sound of Al's footsteps, light and quiet upon the wooden floors of the dorm. 

\--Alphonse's P.O.V--

"Brother! I brought stuff to make a quiche. Figured it might perk you up." Al said, forcing false cheer in his voice. He was worried about his brother, truly. The night prior he had been nearly inconsolable, switching between sobbing crying and  sitting absolutely still, staring at a wall blankly. 

Around three in the morning. Ed had finally succumbed to sleep, curled into a ball so tight it looked almost painful.

He was first met with the knowledge that something was wrong when he heard the alarm clock still ringing. It was a loud, annoying object that was one of the only things that would wake Ed up with any semblance of ease. He would jolt up, glare at it, and nearly break it as he slammed the off button. 

So for it to still be going, now four hours after it was meant to have been shut off?

As Al moved further into the dorm, he peered into the small room that Ed and himself shared, and was met with a horrific sight. 

It was eerily similar to when he was just a child, and their mother had collapsed. 

But this was somehow worse, too. There was blood, lots of it. And Ed just looked so pale, so defeated as he lay there.

He twitched a metal finger in response to Al's instinctive shout of his name, but otherwise made no move to get up.

A moment later, Al realized something. It wasn't that he wasn't trying, it was that he physically couldn't get up.

He did the first thing he could think of; he called Winry.

\--

It took nearly an entire day for Winry and Pinako to make it to Central, and from there, the boys' apartment. Her stride was purposeful, and no one dared get in her way when they saw the sheer expression of fury that concealed a deep well of concern.

Stupid, stupid Edward...always getting himself hurt. And yet this seemed to be something else. 

Alphonse had called her to inform her yesterday of his brother's state; his sheer, negative reaction to the death of his superior officer, and then not even a full day later to have him nearly entirely unresponsive movement wise... 

For him to be in such a state so soon after that, well...both she and Pinako feared for him. 

Ed had always done remarkably well under pressure, but he was just a boy, even if more in body than in mind. His body couldn't keep up with the constant strain Ed was always putting on it. Three automail limbs, plus his attacks, plus the strain of having someone that he was so oddly close to die in such a violent, sudden manner...

Well, they weren't just worried about his physical health anymore.

His mental health was most definitely suffering as well.

But Pinako decided that she was going to get to the bottom of this matter when Ed was able to move again. 

And it was then that they saw him, right as he was about to disappear into the crowd of people walking.

"Hohenheim?" Pinako said, staring. There was no denying it. That was definitely Hohenheim. "Hohenheim!" She called out, and the man paused, looking around for a moment before he locked eyes with her. He began to make his way towards her and Winry, carefully weaving through the crowd.

"Pinako? And, is that you, Winry? You've grown so tall, just like your mother..." Was his opening phrase as he reached them. "What brings you to Central from Resembool, Pinako, Winry?"

Pinako pushed aside any shock she felt at seeing Hohenheim here of all places. Usually he was out traveling some godforsaken stretch of land in either Amestris or a neighbouring country. "Its Edward. Something's wrong with him. Can hardly move a finger, is what Alphonse was saying. Was laying in a pool of blood when he was found."

Hohenheim, as she had spoken, had become more attentive and serious instead of relaxed and pleasantly surprised at seeing an old friend.

"Where is he? The hospital?"

"No. Still at the dorm. Al can't really move him from the floor, and Edward hates hospitals with a burning passion. Wouldn't go even if we could move him. We've been in contact with Alphonse, and he's just doing what he can to keep Ed comfortable on the floor." She looked at Hohenheim, a thoughtful look in her eyes. "You should come with us. We could use your help when we move him. 

"We have to examine what's wrong with his actual automail before we can start messing around with taking it off from the ports and whatnot, and to do that, we need him on the bed."

Hohenheim barely had to consider it. He may not have actually seen his sons since he left that one early morning, but he had been in contact as they agreed. Phone calls when he could, letters when he couldn't. 

In certain occasions, Ed would write in code to him. To anyone else, even Alphonse, it seemed as though nothing were out of place. But Hohenheim had had centuries of learning the ways of coding, and had broken through the code and read what his son was saying to him.

Usually it was the usual stuff. Plotting about how to overthrow the homunculi without people dying, how to get Ed's body back (because this time he didn't have to worry about Alphonse, he could be selfish for once), and other things. 

But then there were the times that Edward truly opened up, talking in slightly shaky penmanship about how clouds blocked the sky wherever he went. It seemed common enough; after all, it was Amestris' rainy season, and the cloud coverage was rather ridiculous.

But to Hohenheim's trained eyes?

It spoke of a world of hurt that his son had told very, very few people, and a secret that only he was privy to.

"Lead the way, Pinako."

-1346 Words-


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of which the Elric/Hohenheim family is reunited and Ed suffers a bit more.

Ed was drifting in and out of a doze. Alphonse had managed, finally, to get him into a sitting position despite his unresponsive state, and had piled blankets around and on his form in an attempt to get him comfortable. 

He had just slipped into another light sleep when there was a near silent knock at the door to their dorm. Silent enough that Edward, in his exhausted state, didn't even stir. When he was awake, he was sporadically coughing up more blood. It wasn't the puddle from before, but definitely still concerning. 

Alphonse stood from his spot on a short stool that was usually in the corner of the dorm, but had been dragged over by Ed so that he could keep a better eye on him. He crossed the dorm on silent feet, and opened the door. He had expected only two people, Granny Pinako and Winry, but there was a third as well.

Tall, broad shouldered, golden eyed and blond haired. Wire framed glasses rested on the bridge of their nose. 

"Dad..?" Alphonse said, voice quiet. "Dad! What are you doing here? I mean, not that you're not welcome, but we haven't seen you in ages and-!"

"I was passing through Central on some business and Pinako and Winry happened across me. I figured that, if possible, I could help." A frown creased his forehead. "Where's your brother?"

"Currently? As comfortable as I can make him on the floor. I couldn't lift him off of the floor because of his automail, and I didn't want to detach it because it would hurt him more..." He looked pained. 

"I don't think he remembers anything about yesterday morning. When he's awake, he just... sits there, looking confused. I haven't brought up anything about the Colonel, though. I think right now its better he be confused while we get him better rather than...well, like he was last night."

"Colonel?" Hohenheim asked, a flash of recognition flaring in his eyes. "You couldn't perchance mean Colonel Mustang, would you?"

"Yeah. Did brother talk to you about him?" A moment later he sighed. "Probably complained a lot if he did."

"The understatement of the century. Now, what happened to the Colonel that you haven't mentioned?" A small glint of humour shone in his eyes at his own little inside joke. 

"...he died. He got into a car crash and he..." Alphonse sighed, looking more downcast now than he had earlier, now that there were people who he could trust who could help him look after his brother. 

Now that he had time to mourn the man who had looked after him and Edward since they had joined the military. 

"He died on the table, while they were trying to stabilize him. Brother's been ether inconsolable or catatonic since." He finished a bit lamely.

Hohenheim looked troubled. The amused glint was absent from his eyes now. From what he had learned from Edward, Roy Mustang had been a valuable asset in the process of defeating Father and gus homunculi. This was some rather disturbing news. 

\--

Edward's dreams were odd, disturbing, and ever winding. They took turns in odd directions, plunged into the deepest depths of hell, and raised him up into the arms of delusioned peace. In one moment, he would know nothing of fear, of pain, of anger and sadness. The next, he was drowning in all of those and so much more. He couldn't claw his way to the top. He was drowning. He was sinking. And then he was flying. There was disorientation as he adjusted to this new dream, and then it was yanked away from him once again.

He stood on a fine line of gray. To his left, there was sheer blackness. To his right, stark white void. He was a circus freak, doing a balancing act for everyone and yet no one. 

Ed could feel eyes watching him from every direction as he walked, treading the neutral line with ease.

He would never escape.

\--

With the joint effort of Winry, Alphonse, and Hohenheim, they got the currently sleeping teen onto the bed. Blood was mopped up quickly, and automail quickly detached.

Edward only winced at the discomfort, too lost in his own feverish sleep to notice the sharp, electric pain that wasn't so much pain, as a feeling of sheer loss.

"This can't keep happening. His body can't keep functioning like this. He's starting to get exhausted far too easily, and whenever he let's that stupid mask of his down, you can tell he's running on pure sheer determination and nothing else. I don't think he knows that I notice this sort of stuff." Alphonse's voice was quiet, almost resigned. "His attacks just keep bringing him down."

"It'll be okay, Alphonse. Your brother is stubborn, but he knows he has his limits." Pinako muttered. "He likes to push them as far as he can, though. It's idiotic, yes, but it's who he is."

"That doesn't mean we should allow him to get himself killed, though!" Winry's voice betrayed the tears she was holding back. "This isn't healthy. He needs rest, not...not this!" A hand swept out towards Edward in emphasis.

It was then that Hohenheim spoke. "I know a spare bit of medical alchemy. I might, and it is a definite might, be able to help. It would hold a certain amount of risk, but..."

"But if it worked, brother would be better?"

"Yes, although I cannot ascertain as to how much."

"Do it, please."

"Alphonse-" 

"No, Winry, Pinako. If this will help brother...we have to try."

There were two terse nods from the automail mechanics. "Should we leave?"

"It might be easier for you all that way, yes." Gold eyes bore into blue, gray, and polished brass. 

There was little argument as the Rockbells and Alphonse left the dorm room, waiting anxiously outside.

Inside, Hohenheim considered Edward momentarily. There wasnt much he could do about his son's weakened heart, nor the missing organs or limbs. If there was one thing he could do, however, it would be to give his son's body the strength and energy needed to live and thrive and defeat the obstacles ahead.

"I'm sorry, my son..."

In Edward's dream, the world turned red, and the sound of screams filled his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look I'm not dead. Interesting.


End file.
